


Did someone say Ibuprofen?

by TheAceMerperson



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, How Do I Tag, Kissing, M/M, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceMerperson/pseuds/TheAceMerperson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He thought the headaches couldn't get any worse, which automatically means they will. What was surprising about the whole situation was Malfoy's role in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever published. And I'm sorry about anything (and everything) that might go wrong.

Taking advanced potions without the Prince's book might have been a bad idea. The whole I-want-to-be-an-Auror thing might have been a bad idea now that Harry thinks about it. That was his plan a few years back, but the war changed a lot of things. Dreams about Voldemort haven't changed much over the years. Except now there are even more people dying in them. Said nightmares might be partially responsible for the fact that Harry is half asleep in most of his classes (and probably failing them, not that he cares). And this particular morning it's also responsible for the fact that he's the last one to walk into the dungeon only to discover that the only remaining seat is the one next to Malfoy.

The house rivalries died down significantly after the summer. And there were barely any Slytherin so called "8 years" coming back. It was only mildly surprising that the ones who came back were all part of Malfoy's friend group.

Looking over the rest of the class Harry realizes that Zabini and Neville are absent, which accounts for the fact that he's now paired up with Malfoy. The latter doesn't seem to be too pleased with the idea but at least he's silent.

Slughorn gives out the assignment and students wait in line to pick up the ingredients off of his desk. When Malfoy returns, his hands full of some kind of plant and dumps it on the table in front of Harry he doesn't even flinch.

"Make yourself useful, Potter. I'm not letting you anywhere near the cauldron so you might as well grind these up."

Harry complies, if only to stop him from talking. His head is getting foggy and is slightly spinning which is a new and unwelcome addition to the tiredness and headaches. He doesn't realize that he's been staring off into nothing until he catches Malfoy's irritated voice right next to his ear.

"Merlin, Potter, we don't have all day. Are you even listening? Potter, bloody hell, will you concentrate? Potter? POTTER?"

Harry turns and whatever Malfoy sees in his face must be really terrifying because next thing he knows, Malfoy is no longer shaking the collar of his robes and he whispers: "Potter...are you all right?"

At that specific moment his body decides to give up and he slumps onto the table with a thump. If it wasn't for Malfoy's fist on his collar he probably would have continued his descent onto the potions room floor which is a really bad plan. He vaguely hears Hermione gasp (she should get used to this already though) and Malfoy's voice asking Slughorn for permission to take "bloody Potter" ("Watch your language, Mr Malfoy") to the infirmary. He's about to protest when Malfoy heaves him out of his seat and violently drags him out of the room. They make it up the first staircase but at the top of it Harry has to lean against the wall and take a breath because everything is blurry as hell and oxygen seems to be lacking in this particular corridor. Malfoy looks concerned, annoyed and furious all at once which is strange but then again he also looks like a fuzzy dandelion what with Harry's vision going all wonky so he shouldn't be surprised if he hallucinates more emotions than disgust on the Slytherin's face. Then the floor lurches and Harry thinks he's about to smash his face into the ground when strong arms grab onto his arms and...

Oh.

"Alright princess Potter, let's get you to the infirmary before you..."

"No wait."

Harry grabs on to the warm arm that's about to slip away because it feels so fucking good. Like drinking water after an insanely hot day out, like he's finally had a solid 9 hours of sleep.

"What are you doing?"

"Touching you is helping." Harry clarifies, only to realize how absurd that sounds. Normally they'd both be jumping away from each other but for once his head is clearing up and if Malfoy is the one to do it then fine, he won't complain.

"That's insane even for you Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy. Just let me have this for a minute will you?"

They don't make it to the infirmary and that night Harry has a dreamless sleep.


	2. 2

Of course it doesn't last. One night of sleep is all Harry gets before he's a walking mess again. It's slightly more subdued than usual but seeing as he usually feels like he's going to pass out that's not saying much. He rushes into potions the next class, after three nearly sleepless nights and walks straight up to Malfoy's bench in order to grab his wrist. Zabini stares at him like he's gone mad. Malfoy inhales sharply but doesn't take his arm away. He is the one, after all, who stood for fifteen minutes in a deserted hallway with Harry as he held onto his arm and gave his best impression of someone learning to breathe all over again. Harry releases Malfoy and walks over to Neville just as Slughorn walks in.

This time his head is only clear until lunchtime.

Hermione freaks out for half an hour when he tells her and then, after Harry has walked around the 8 year common room and touched every student present, demands that Harry and Zabini switch seats in potions from here on out. Zabini doesn't protest. Him and Neville have been doing herbology projects since the summer Hogwarts reconstruction camp. Malfoy shrugs and mutters something probably insulting but complies. Harry ends up spending his potions classes preparing ingredients and brushing elbows with Malfoy in order to get at least enough relief for the rest of the day.

He's not looking forward to the Holidays.

Everyone except Harry, Hermione and a handful of Hufflepuffs leave on the train. Saying goodbye was awkward as hell because of the tense handholding going on between Harry and stop-calling-me-Malfoy-you-human-leech Draco. Ron has been taking it very well in the sense that he still laughs his ass off when it happens.

Harry can't bring himself to come down on Christmas. If a few days between classes were bad, this is hell. This is Voldemort having a rave in his skull. He's probably sweated his body's worth off already and he can't see for shit. In his hazy fevered state he hears footsteps on the dorm stairs and someone shouting: "Call Madam Pomfrey!"  
A warm dry hand checks his forehead, pries his eyelids open. There are swooshes of spells being performed but nothing seems to help. Everything goes black, but even that isn't much better.

The next thing he knows is a hesitant hand on his arm and sweet relief floods his blood. But it's not enough, nothing is enough after such a long time and Harry uses all the strength he has left to yank his saviour on top of him for more skin contact. The person yelps and tries to move away but Harry is already nuzzling his face into the cool skin on their neck, moving away the scarf so he can get more, he needs more. His hands slip up up up and there is a spread of warm soft skin that Harry presses into contentedly, the pain and nausea finally fading away. Arms hesitantly come up around him and the last of the dizziness is gone. He can sleep.

"I am really sorry that we had to call you away from your mother but he'd been out of it for days and..."

"It's fine, Granger."

Harry blinked hazily into Draco's neck. His position should have been embarrassing with Hermione in the room but he'd had the best sleep yet and wasn't ready to throw that out the window just because he'd been seen snuggling with his long time rival. He was about to sit up completely when Draco continued with: "I don't have a choice, do I. Can't leave the Savior to suffer now can I."

Harry stiffens. There it was. He had been dumb to think that after the war all the participants would treat each other as equals. But that's what he and Draco were supposed to be. They had saved each other and were now...whatever they were. A human leech and its energy source. He removed his hands from where they rested under Draco's shirt (inappropriate, Harry) and sat up, not looking at anyone in the room.

"Harry! You're up!"

"Uh, yeah 'Mione, thanks for...everything I guess. I think I'll go take a shower. I feel like hell." For multiple reasons. "Thanks Malfoy. Sorry for the inconvenience."

"Harry..."

He didn't listen to the rest of the sentence, rushing down the hall to the boys washroom. Having this much energy suddenly didn't feel good at all.


	3. 3

Avoiding the guy you like who also happens to be your literal medicine is harder than Harry would have imagined. It's certainly a change from when he used to stalk Malfoy through the hallways. But then again, ever since he admitted to himself that the reason this hurt (other than the fact that his brain was about to melt out of his ears) was because he felt a little heart broken, avoiding the cause of half of his emotional problems seemed like a good idea. Because this was definitely him liking Malfoy. Draco. Even more than liking him. He'd spent 4 months glued to him in potions and even outside of them he kept sneaking small touches at him. Before he would have waited until his skull was about to split before even thinking about it. Now, well apparently now he stuck his face into his neck and groped him.

And Malfoy did it out of fucking duty or fear that he'd get in trouble for not helping the Harry Potter.

Slughorn looked down at his trembling hands with a raised eyebrow but didn't say anything. Harry had stopped going to potions with the rest of the class and worked on them on his own in the evenings. Without touching Draco he couldn't really wake up in time anyway. Hermione had tried to convince him during the first week, but Harry ignored her attempts and furthermore warded his room. No one had come knocking anyway.

The potions professor sets a normal hourglass on his desk and gives out instructions before leaving the dungeon. Harry uses his time alone to lean his throbbing forehead against a cool flask in the hope that it would help with the pain. It doesn't. He proceeds to slice up asian pear and wood lice and the cauldron is bubbling promisingly by the time the door creaks again. Harry glances up at the hourglass. Still half an hour left.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Harry nearly drops the ground up spices he's holding and spins around to see Draco standing at the other end of his table.

"You've stopped coming to potions, you don't eat in the Great Hall and Granger can't even get into your room to wake you up in time. Why are you avoiding me?" He repeats and Harry ignores what he thinks is a note of hurt under all the irritation in Draco's voice.

"I'm avoiding everyone, Malfoy."

Draco takes two steps towards him and towers above him like the giant blond asshole that he is. Harry wants to punch him in the face. Or kiss him. Definitely kiss him.

"Don't you Malfoy me. What the fuck is wrong. You look like hell warmed over and I can help. Why are you avoiding me?"

"This is getting redundant, _Draco_."

Draco glares and reaches out to grab Harry's wrist. The reaction is instantaneous. It feels like being blissed out on a cheering charm and Harry wants to just wrap himself around Draco like a giant octopus and never let go. He does the opposite.

"Don't touch me." He spits. "I don't need your pity or whatever weird sense of duty has got you doing this."

"What? Harry, the hell?"

"You do have a choice. You don't have to do this. Nobody will blame you."

Harry has backed away to a wall, his shoulder blades pressing against the cold rock. But Draco has followed him, the git, and the warmth coming off of him is more distracting than anything.

"Are you mental? Do you think I care about what people think? I'm an ex-Death Eater at Hogwarts, Harry. I could care less about them. That isn't what I'm here for."

"Look, I'm sorry that I molested you. I was out of it. Just...please leave. I need to finish my potion."

"Slughorn isn't grading your potion making when you're in this state. We're still sharing the grade. And what do you mean _molested_?"

Slughorn, the traitor.

"Draco, please." Harry practically whines. This is getting unbearable.

He pauses and tilts his head, "Is this about what I said to Granger?"

Harry ignores the question, instead opting out to closing his eyes. Everything is blurry anyway.

"You noble bastard."

Reluctantly Harry opens his eyes at his softened voice. Draco is looking at him with amusement, the annoyance and frustration completely gone.

"You really think I'd touch you if I didn't want to?"

"Not if you knew how much I want to touch _you_." The words leave his mouth before Harry can stop his stupid fevered brain. He briefly wonders if he could obliviate Draco in the dungeons without anyone noticing.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments and tips on how to improve the random 'ish I tend to drag out of my head. It would be much appreciated.

"I know that, clearly your brain has finally gone to mush."

Clearly it has because instead of agreeing with the escape Malfoy has given him from what might become an awkward situation Harry practically shouts: "IT'S NOT BECAUSE OF MY HEAD!"

"You want to...touch me?" Draco's voice is hesitant, as if he didn't quite understand Harry's declaration. And instead of taking it all back and pretend it didn't happen, Harry's brain panics. This seems to be a pattern with today's conversation. Bloody Malfoy and his bloody distracting hair.

"Not...Not in that way! I mean in that way too but I mean...Dammit. Fuck. Draco..."

The Slytherin shakes his head to silence him and murmurs, his voice suddenly low and hoarse:

"Tell me how."

This is not going in the direction it was supposed to. Harry takes a steadying breath, ignoring the thumping in his head and the weakness in his knees. In for a knut, in for a galleon.

"I want to put my arms around you all the time."

Solid arms sneak around his waist and pause.

"I...I want to run my fingers through your hair."

Draco obligingly takes Harry's palm and lifts it so it's resting against his nape, the soft blond hair tickling his fingertips. Harry doesn't dare to move. He must be hallucinating. Grey eyes keep on looking at him, patiently waiting for him to continue.

"I want to kiss you." He breathes out and closes his eyes, to brace for the imminent laughing or fury.

But everything is silent. Instead there are warm lips on his, softly pressing forward before lifting off and migrating to the corner of his mouth, the other corner. Draco kisses his forehead, his brow bone, his nose and presses a kiss behind his ear, whispering:

"Now show me."

His eyes still closed, Harry slips his free arm up Draco's shoulder and lets his other hand play with the shaggy hair beneath his fingers. It's unbearably soft and he sighs against Draco's neck, feeling a similar puff of breath against his own. When he finally opens his eyes, the grey eyes are back in front of him, much more impatient, burning with something that Harry never saw directed at him. Passion, tenderness, want.

He surges forward, no longer caring, and captures those sweet lips with his own. It's messy, and warm and his head is full of a fuzziness that is no longer painful. A slick tongue flicks against his mouth and Harry is a goner. He slides his fingers down that beautiful neck, dipping into the collar of an inappropriately crisp shirt (darn Malfoys) just as Draco's hands travel from his waist to his lower back before squeezing his arse.

Harry backs away, smacking his head against the rock in the process. They're both breathing heavily and his hands are still resting against Draco's chest, his heartbeat pounding extremely fast and just as frantic as his own.

"Sorry, I've been wanting to do that for a while. Got carried away." Draco admits, grinning. He doesn't seem sorry at all.

"Pardon?"

"I mean, you can't just walk around with adorable bed head, being hopeless at potions and slipping your hands up people's shirts without them getting worked up about it."

"I said I'm sorry..."

"You're not. And I don't want you to be," Draco smiles and leans forward, "When I came in here I thought you'd tell me that you're avoiding me because my crush on you was getting too obvious, but this is better."

"Draco, my brain is still fuzzy from the best snogging I've ever had. You need to spell things out for me."

Their noses brush and Draco's voice dips even lower.

"I like you. And I'd like it if you hugged me, played with my hair, kissed me and fucked me."

Harry stares at him for the longest time. It's hard to do because of how close their faces are. Draco takes the silence as an opportunity to continue:

"But, I would also like it if you had breakfast with me and attempted to mess up the next potions project because I'm fine with just brushing arms if that's what you're into."

Finally his voice seems to be back and Harry can answer with:

"Good. Because I like you too. And I don't want to fuck you in the potions classroom."

Emboldened, and probably still stupid from the rush of emotions that this perfect being in his arms seems to make him feel, he presses a kiss to Draco's collarbone and adds:"I want to make love to you instead."

Draco's blush creeps down his neck and chest, making Harry smile for the first time since the Christmas episode and he whines:

"You can't just say that. Fuck, Harry, don't make me confess even more of my feelings in the middle of a bloody dungeon."

Harry hums contentedly into his neck and just nuzzles in. They'll have time for that. For the first time in 7 years they have time.


End file.
